


my playground love

by el_em_en_oh_pee



Category: Glee
Genre: Brittany just wants to roleplay, F/F, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Hotel Sex, Kissing, Oral Sex, Prom, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Santana is in a glass case of emotion right now, So much fucking fluff, Squirting, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 17:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el_em_en_oh_pee/pseuds/el_em_en_oh_pee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm sorry you didn't get Prom King, B," Santana says. They're in their hotel room at the <i>actual</i> nicest hotel in Lima. Brittany is hanging her outfit up in the closet next to Santana's dress; Santana is pouring screwdrivers from the canteen she hid in the limo she, Britt, Mike and Tina, and Sam and Mercedes shared from dinner to prom to the hotel into the little plastic cups that the hotel provides. </p><p>"It's okay," Brittany says, shrugging. "I only wanted it because you wanted to be queen."</p>
            </blockquote>





	my playground love

**Author's Note:**

> lol I promised this fic to some friends like, four episodes ago. Sorry it took so long, ladies!
> 
> Title from the perfect Air, of course.

"I'm sorry you didn't get Prom King, B," Santana says. They're in their hotel room at the _actual_ nicest hotel in Lima. Brittany is hanging her outfit up in the closet next to Santana's dress; Santana is pouring screwdrivers from the canteen she hid in the limo she, Britt, Mike and Tina, and Sam and Mercedes shared from dinner to prom to the hotel into the little plastic cups that the hotel provides. 

"It's okay," Brittany says, shrugging. "I only wanted it because you wanted to be queen."

Santana puts the canteen down carefully and turns to embrace Brittany. "I love you," she says. "So much."

"Well duh," Brittany says. "I'm pretty sure that we're going to be nominated for best couple or something like that. You know, in the yearbook."

"Probably," Santana agrees, but she's getting pretty distracted, because like, Brittany is all pressed against her in her fucking underwear, and Santana is not wearing much more than that. She takes a deep, steadying breath. It's still honestly amazing that Brittany is totally, publicly hers. Like, it sucks the way that she came out, but – 

She wouldn't trade this for anything.

"Screwdriver?" she asks Brittany.

Britt frowns. "The drink or like, a sex thing?" she asks. "I wouldn't be opposed to either but I don't know how to do a screwdriver so I don't know if it would be very good."

Santana laughs, presses a cup into Brittany's hand. "Babe, you're good at all the sex acts you try," she says, taking a long, deep sip from her cup. 

"Thanks," Brittany says, taking her own cup and flopping onto the bed. "Thanks for singing me my new favorite song today, too."

"How could I not?" Santana says, moving to sit beside her. "I gots to show my hot girlfriend some appreciation after she pulls off an amazing prom like that."

"When you're famous," Britt says, placing a deliberate hand on Santana's thigh and running her thumb in tiny concentric circles, "I want you to sing it with Selena Gomez."

"Okay," Santana says, leaning in to kiss Brittany lightly on the lips – just a peck, really. Britt's faith in her and her future is like, Santana's favorite thing ever.

Brittany returns the kiss, but pulls away after a second for another sip of her screwdriver and to say, "If she wants a threesome that's okay with me, too. I bet she's still really depressed after her breakup with Demi. I'm pretty sure beards like Justin aren't really big on the satisfying a girl's needs thing."

"I'm sure she'll have another girlfriend by then," Santana says, and yeah, she has an actual opinion on this situation. So fucking what? She and Britt have made out to Princess Protection Program on like, twenty separate occasions. So maybe she tracked the Selena-Demi falling-out on a number of gossip sites. So maybe Brittany convinced her that it was a relationship breakup, rather than a friend breakup. So what? It makes sense.

"Okay, but if she doesn't," Brittany says. "You're hot, I'm hot, she's hot."

Santana finishes her drink. The cups are small, and she wants to get her buzz on, so she should probably like, refill. The canteen holds enough to get both her and Britt decently drunk. But Brittany is like, talking about sex here, and Santana does have some fucking priorities (all possible meanings intended), so she just tosses the cup aside and rests a hand on Britt's stomach. "I'll add her to our list, then," she says, moving in for a kiss.

"Hold on," Brittany says, and she drains her cup too, also tossing it aside, before moving to straddle Santana's lap, pushing her back down to the bed. "Do you want to roleplay as Carter and Mason? Or like, as prom king and queen? I don't have my strap-on but we could still pretend."

"Um, do _you_?" Santana asks, staring up at Brittany, then reaching up to tuck a loose tendril of Britt's blonde hair behind her ear. 

"I could go either way," Britt says. "I just wanted to give you the option."

"How about we just be Brittany and Santana," Santana says, cupping a hand behind Brittany's head and drawing her down for a deep kiss. "That's my favorite couple out there."

"Even more favorite than Barack and Michelle?" Brittany asks. Because of her prom dress, Santana is wearing a bra with adjustable straps with only one strap attached; Brittany slips that strap over Santana's shoulder.

"How about we don't talk about the president and my favorite first lady when I'm about to rock your world, B?" Santana suggests, running a hand up and down Brittany's back, pausing at her bra long enough to unhook it, and kissing her again.

Their lips move slowly together for a while. Santana strokes Brittany's back with her fingertips, scratching gently every couple of passes; Brittany tangles a hands in Santana's hair, smoothing her other hand down Santana's side over and over again. When her thumb catches on Santana's thong, she starts to work it down lower on Santana's hip.

Santana deepens the kiss, leaning up into it until she's sitting up, chest flush against Britt's. She reaches behind herself to unhook her own bra, then pulls away long enough to push it completely off.

She isn't feeling as frenzied as she usually does tonight – she's already feeling pretty satisfied. Prom actually didn't suck. Quinn stood up again, and sure, Santana and Brittany may not have made prom king and queen – and Santana thinks it's fucking balls that she lost by one point to Quinn Fabray, though she does understand why the people voted that way – but like…

The thing is, Santana has the girl. Last year, prom would have sucked even if she did get queen, because Brittany was so committed to being with Artie, and Santana still hated herself enough then that she wouldn’t honestly have fought hard enough in the right ways to change that. Sure, she had that whole breakdown anyway, but in retrospect, if she had gotten queen, it would have just driven home that she couldn't share that with the one person who truly mattered to her.

Now, though? She has the girl. Prom king and queen for the two of them would have been a nice cherry on top of the icing on the cake, but, like a cherry on an already-iced cake, it just… it isn't as necessary. So sure, maybe winning would confirm her place as top bitch at McKinley. Whatever. So Quinn had a weirdly gay moment and gave it up for Berry. So what? Even though Berry was totally against the whole prom idea from the get-go, she probably needed to have that win more than anyone, considering that audition of hers. It's this whole big fucking Mean Girls thing, really. Rachel Berry was crowned. Quinn's still a total queen of the prom just because she finally managed to fucking stand up, which is like so cool, and Santana is totally still tearing up at the thought, however completely gay that might be. Whatever. Santana's a queen of the prom, too, because she _has the girl_ and danced with her and went home – or, you know, to the hotel – with her at the end of the night, and ain't no one can take that away from her.

So she's feeling really fucking content. Usually she wants to go straight from kissing to eating Britt out, but like… might as well take advantage of the fact that this is the calmest she's honestly felt in, well, years.

So when her bra comes off, she doesn't immediately move to take off her thong or Britt's panties. Instead, she just keeps kissing her, allowing one hand to fall to Britt's waist, the other cupping Brittany's sideboob briefly before running it down level with her other hand. She draws Brittany closer, kissing her slow and sweet, just leaning into Brittany and relishing in the press of lip against lip. 

Brittany tugs her until they're lying down face to face, still holding each other relatively loosely, still kissing so softly that Santana's pretty fucking sure that if she weren't totally convinced that she and Britt are in it for the long haul, her heart would be breaking right now.

And they like… just keep kissing these sweet chaste kisses for the longest time, probably ten whole minutes, before Santana lets her hand drift back to Britt's breast, and even then she just kind of... rests it there for a minute or so, until Brittany presses forward, hinting, and Santana brushes her thumb roughly across it, making sure to pass directly over her nipple.

"Santana," Brittany whispers, pressing even closer, running her tongue gently across the front of Santana's lips. Santana lets her mouth fall open, slightly, moving one leg forward and slipping it between Brittany's.

She runs her thumb over Britt's nipple again, and again, and one more time, until Brittany gasps into her mouth and rolls Santana over onto her back, stretching out on top of her and kissing her deeply and God, yes, this is what Santana fucking lives for. So maybe she's the biggest goddamn sap on the planet, but like – yeah. She's come pretty far in a year, if she does say so herself.

It _is_ better with feelings.

At some point, after more kissing and soft caresses, Santana starts feeling this strong fucking _need_ for more, the driving hunger for Brittany that she feels pretty much all of the time slowly but definitely overwhelming the languid calm she's had so far this night. She pushes _hard_ into the kiss, moving one hand down Britt's back to cup her ass and squeeze, following that up with a quick little slap – she and Brittany have been experimenting with spanking, lately – and gasping when Britt slips a leg between Santana's, pressing it up so that Santana can push her hips against it and _feel_.

"Wow," Brittany says. "Your thong is like, damp. I should probably take it off before you ruin it."

Santana nods wordlessly for a moment before clearing her throat. "Yes," she says. "Yes, please do, God, B." She props herself up slightly on her elbows, lifting her hips up so that Brittany can work the thong over her ass and down her legs. She slides down Santana's body slowly as she does so, and then crawls back up it, pausing at Santana's breasts to cup one in one hand, and then to lower her mouth to it, sucking Santana's nipple into her hot little mouth. And holy _fuck_ , yeah, Santana's pretty goddamn impatient at this point, so she starts pinching her other nipple, tangling the fingers of her free hand in Britt's hair and if she maybe starts guiding the girl down lower on her body, well. It's totally fucking understandable, right?

And then Brittany smiles this wicked little grin up at her and flattens the tip of her tongue just below Santana's clit, pressing hard. Santana gasps, her hips rolling up almost completely of their own volition. Brittany drags her tongue up over her clit, still pressing just as hard. Her hands come up to push Santana's hips into the mattress as she starts flicking her tongue rhythmically over and over and over, sometimes moving down enough that she can thrust her tongue _into_ Santana, and god, Santana's nerves are on fucking fire.

This is – wow, there's just this complete fucking _swelling_ inside of her, a heat that starts low in her belly and spreads down her legs and up her chest and she's not even coming yet, she's just warm all over and so aroused it's practically painful, and if she's not careful, her legs are going to snap together, because that's what _happens_ when she comes whenever she feels this fucking _flood_ \- of arousal, of emotions, of like, love and shit - inside of her this quickly into sex. 

She needs to move, but Britt is holding her hips down too hard for her to rock them up, so she instead reaches back behind her and grabs onto one of the slats on the headboard of the bed, holding tight, keeping herself in place, and ohgodshit she can't help it; her hips are _quaking_ , practically, with how completely turned on she is right now. 

Britt glances up at Santana briefly, says, "You should probably come now," and then pushes two fingers inside of Santana, crooking them forward as she leans down to lick over Santana's clit again.

And, like, well. Santana always likes doing what her girl asks her to, especially lately, so after one more lick and a twist of Britt's fingers, she does come, biting down hard on her lip and trying not to shout from the sensations ripping through her.

She comes down sensitive, so she reaches down and tugs at Brittany's hair. Britt grins up at her and moves up Santana's body slowly, skin brushing against skin, breasts brushing against Santana's still-hard nipples. When she's high up enough, Santana pulls her into a kiss and rolls them onto their sides. 

"I love you," she tells Brittany, because those words are important and she doesn't ever want to take Britt for granted ever, ever again. 

"Me too," Brittany says, before her eyes fall shut as Santana cups a hand against Britt's pussy and starts stroking into her slick folds. "I – oh god, Santana, _please_."

"Always," Santana promises, and like – she's not orgasming anymore, obviously, but it's like she's fucking jizzing emotion all over Brittany, and honestly, she should probably be scared by how deeply she feels for this girl, but like… the feelings are so goddamn good, too, that she can't be too frightened.

She's not that great with the words part of expressing these feelings, though – she doesn't want to cheapen them, and her default language is sarcasm, and it's just – it's hard, sometimes, to say what she means. So she tries to show Brittany, through the circles her fingers are making around Britt's clit, the way she's dipping into Brittany to draw moisture out and spread it around so that it gets even better for her. The way she buries her face into the space between Britt's neck and shoulders and licks and sucks enough to leave a mark, right over the sweet spot that Brittany's confessed that no one but Santana has really ever found before.

And like – Santana knows that she's fucking good at this physical shit, so she works her fingers the way she knows Britt likes best, eventually kissing her way down from Brittany's neck until she can fit her lips around one of B's nipples, swirling her tongue around it and then grazing it lightly with her teeth until Brittany gasps, then moans, then cants her hips up into Santana's hand.

"That's it, baby," Santana murmurs. "God, Britt, you're so fucking hot. I can't – I just – I love you so much."

"Love you," Brittany replies, her voice high and tight with arousal. "So close, Santana, I'm so - _yes_ ," she says, as Santana pinches her clit and twists it in her fingers for a hot second. And then Santana feels a gush of warmth – Brittany usually squirts just a little when she comes, it's like the hottest thing ever – and Britt lets out this shuddery deep breath and like, well.

"You're so beautiful," Santana whispers.

Brittany opens her eyes and grins at her. "I've made you go soft," she says, laughing, and Santana frowns.

"Take that back," she insists. Britt shakes her head. "Take it back!"

"There's nothing wrong with being soft sometimes," Britt tells her, moving a hand around Santana's back so she can stroke her hair, and, well.

"I know," she tells her, because like, she does. But she still has a reputation and shit, so like…

But Britt is giving her this fucking adorable expression, her eyes wide and mouth smiling and hair all sexy and wispy around her face, cheeks flushed with sex and probably a little bit from the vodka, and like… Ugh. Whatever. So she's soft for Brittany. So fucking what. She's still a badass in other ways.

Speaking of – "What do you say we call Mike and Tina's room and like interrupt them and shit?" she asks Brittany. 

Britt laughs. "Here," she says, standing up. Santana watches her ass move as she walks to where the canteen of drinks is. "Have another drink. We can put on Disney Channel, see if anything good is on, and then like… round two."

"Britt-"

"You can embarrass them at breakfast," Brittany says, rolling her eyes and sitting back next to Santana, handing her the canteen. Santana takes it, takes a swig, and passes it back. 

"Whatever," she says, tossing her hair. "I guess we can follow your plan."

"Of course," Britt says. "It's a pretty great plan."

Santana leans over, resting her head on Brittany's shoulder. Britt's arm comes around her back, holding her snug around her waist. They're a little sweaty, a little sticky, a lot naked.

Santana's pretty sure that this has been the best prom ever.

**Author's Note:**

> [lj](http://el_em_en_oh_pee.livejournal.com) | [tumblr](http://dulosis.tumblr.com)


End file.
